There’s a particular kind of loneliness that doesn’t show up on the “sad playlist + rainy window” mood board.
It’s the loneliness of having a whole solar system inside your headyour niche hobby, your obscure fascination,
your oddly specific obsessionand realizing you have nobody to aim it at without getting the polite, thousand-yard-stare response:
“Wow… cool. Anyway, did you see that email?”
That’s why Bored Panda’s “Hey Pandas” prompt about hidden passions lands so hard. It’s not just a questionit’s a permission slip.
A gentle invitation to say, “Yes, I will talk about moths, quantum mechanics, Soviet classical music, or doodle-crafting
for an hour, and no, I will not apologize.”
What the Bored Panda thread gets right in one simple question
The prompt basically asks: what could you talk about forever that makes the people around you yawn?
It even tosses out examples ranging from “tiny and random” to “deep and brainy”the kind of range that makes you realize
how many different ways humans can be delightfully weird.
In the responses, you can feel the relief. One person gushes about bugsespecially moths and harvestmenand even clarifies
that harvestmen aren’t actually spiders. Another commenter longs for someone who’d get excited about big science news,
like discoveries about planets or breakthroughs connecting big physics ideas. Others mention art and history, or wanting
a buddy to nerd out about 20th-century Soviet classical music (and yes, TwoSet Violin gets a shout-out too). Someone else
keeps it simple: “Philosophy and learning.” It’s basically a museum of human passioncurated by people who’ve been
holding their enthusiasm in like a sneeze at a library. Bless them. (And bless libraries, honestly.)
Why a passion can feel lonely (even when you’re not “alone”)
Not having someone to share your interest with isn’t always about having “no friends.” Plenty of people have friends, families,
coworkers, group chats, and still feel like their core fascination has nowhere to go. That mismatch happens for a few reasons:
1) Your passion isn’t “small talk compatible”
Some interests don’t have an easy on-ramp. If you love professional sports, you can say “Did you catch the game?”
If you love… fungal spores, medieval coins, or the taxonomy of arachnids, you may need three sentences just to get
to the part where the other person can nod politely.
2) You want a partner, not an audience
What you’re really looking for is reciprocity: someone who asks questions, pushes back, adds their own knowledge, and
makes the topic feel like a shared spacenot a solo presentation with reluctant attendees.
3) You’ve been trained to “tone it down”
Many people learn (usually by experience) that enthusiasm can get labeled as “too much.” So they tuck it away.
Over time, the passion becomes privatenot because it’s embarrassing, but because it’s unreceived.
4) Modern life quietly steals the places where interests used to meet
When schedules are tight, commutes are long, and socializing is squeezed into micro-moments, hobbies can get pushed into
isolation. And the fewer places we casually gather, the harder it is to stumble into “Oh waityou like that too?”
It’s not just emotionalsocial connection is a health issue
This topic feels personal, but it’s also big-picture. Public health organizations have been blunt: social isolation and loneliness
are widespread in the U.S., and they’re linked to serious mental and physical health outcomes. The CDC notes that about
1 in 3 U.S. adults report feeling lonely, and about 1 in 4 report lacking social and emotional support. That’s not a quirky vibe;
that’s a national pattern.
The U.S. Surgeon General’s advisory on social connection goes further, explaining that loneliness and social isolation are associated
with increased risk for premature death, and links social disconnection to elevated risks for conditions like heart disease and stroke.
In other words: this isn’t just about feeling awkward at parties. It’s about how humans are built.
So why do passions matter so much?
Because passions do two powerful things at once:
they give you meaning and they create a bridge to other people. A hobby or fascination can be a ready-made social connector
a reason to meet, a topic to return to, a shared identity that doesn’t require you to start with vulnerable life details.
“We both like this weird thing” is often safer than “So, what’s your deepest fear?”
And hobbies can be good for well-being in measurable ways. Harvard Health, summarizing a large multi-country study of older adults,
highlights that people who reported having hobbies also reported better health, greater happiness, fewer symptoms of depression,
and higher life satisfaction (while also noting the study was observational and can’t prove cause and effect). Translation:
hobbies aren’t just time-fillers; they’re often life-fillers.
How to find someone to share your passion with (without becoming a human TED Talk)
Step 1: Start with a “60-second version”
If your passion is complex, build a short version that’s easy to receive. Think of it as a movie trailer, not the director’s cut.
For example:
Instead of: “So harvestmen are Opiliones and their morphology differs from Araneae because”
Try: “I’m weirdly into bugs, especially the ones people misunderstand. Want to hear a fun fact?”
Step 2: Ask for consent (yes, socially)
A simple “Do you mind if I geek out for a second?” works like magic. It signals self-awareness, gives the other person control,
and often makes them more curious. People like enthusiasm when they don’t feel trapped under it.
Step 3: Offer an on-ramp, not a wall
The easiest way to invite someone in is to connect your topic to something familiar:
- History: “It’s like the origin story behind stuff we still do today.”
- Classical music: “It’s basically dramatic storytellingjust with instruments.”
- Physics: “It’s the rules of reality… and the rules get weird.”
- Crafting/doodling: “It’s like stress relief you can hold in your hands.”
Step 4: Look for “interest adjacency”
You don’t always need someone who loves your exact niche. Sometimes you need a neighbor hobby.
If you love Soviet classical music, you might click with:
musicians, orchestra fans, film-score lovers, history buffs, or even people who enjoy analyzing patterns.
Shared energy can matter more than identical subject matter.
Where your people actually are hiding
If you feel like nobody shares your passion, it often means you’re searching in the wrong container. Here are places
that tend to “hold” niche interests better than everyday life does:
1) Libraries and community learning spaces
Libraries host book clubs, workshops, lectures, and maker-style eventsand they’re one of the few public places where
being quietly obsessed is considered a personality strength.
2) Local clubs that sound boring until you try them
Astronomy clubs. Entomology societies. Historical associations. Music ensembles. Philosophy meetups.
Many of these groups look sleepy online, then you show up and realize everyone is vibrating at the same frequency as you.
3) Classes (not for credentials, for contact)
Community college extension courses, art studios, adult education programs, and music lessons all create repeated exposure
which is basically friendship’s favorite ingredient. You don’t have to “be good” at the hobby. You just have to keep showing up.
4) Volunteering that matches your curiosity
Passionate about nature? Volunteer with local conservation or citizen science projects.
Passionate about history? Museums and historical sites often need docents or event help.
Volunteering is socializing with a built-in scriptno improvisational small talk required.
5) The “Tiny Internet”
The loudest parts of the internet can be exhausting, but smaller communities can be gold:
specialized subforums, niche Discords, local Facebook groups, hobbyist newsletters, and event calendars.
Pew Research has described how many teens experience social media as a space for connection and support (even while acknowledging the downsides).
The point isn’t “more screen time.” It’s finding the right people, then using online contact to create real belonging.
6) Build a micro-community on purpose
If you can’t find the group, build the smallest possible version:
invite two people to a monthly “show and tell” night. Make it theme-based:
“Bring one thing you can’t shut up about.” The first meeting might feel awkward.
The third meeting starts feeling like a tradition.
How to share your passion so people lean in (not back away)
Here’s the trick: people don’t need the whole encyclopedia; they need a doorway.
Try this three-part structure:
- The hook: one sentence that’s surprising or relatable.
- The tiny story: how you got into it, or a “this one time” moment.
- The invite: a question that gives them a role.
Example for bug-love:
Hook: “There’s this creature people call a spider that isn’t actually a spider.”
Story: “I fell into a rabbit hole after seeing one on my porch.”
Invite: “Want to see a picture? It’s kind of adorable in a ‘tiny alien’ way.”
This isn’t “watering yourself down.” It’s translating your passion into a format other humans can receive.
Think of it as subtitles for your inner monologue.
When it’s deeper than a hobby
Sometimes, “I have no one to share this with” is really “I feel disconnected, period.” If loneliness is frequent or intense,
it may help to treat it like the real health factor it is: something worth addressing directly. Public health guidance emphasizes
that social isolation and loneliness are widespread, and they’re associated with significant health risksso it’s reasonable
to take your own experience seriously, not dismiss it as “just me being dramatic.”
Conclusion: your passion isn’t the problemyour audience just hasn’t found you yet
The Bored Panda thread is a reminder that tons of people are walking around with bright, specific interests they’ve been
keeping quietbugs, big science, art, history, music, philosophy, and everything in between.
The world isn’t short on passion. It’s short on places where passion can be shared without getting shrink-wrapped into
“normal conversation.”
Start small. Translate your obsession into an inviting hook. Look for adjacent interests. Try a library event.
Join the club that sounds like it meets in a basement (because it probably doesand that basement might be full of your people).
And if you can’t find the group, build the tiny version yourself. You don’t need hundreds of fans.
You need one person who says, “Waitme too.”
Experience Add-On: 5 Moments That Feel Like This (And What Helps)
Below are five realistic, composite-style snapshotsbased on the kinds of situations people describe in communities like
“Hey Pandas”that capture what it feels like to love something that nobody around you seems to share. If any of these sound
familiar, consider them proof you’re not “too niche.” You’re just temporarily unmatched.
1) The Bug Person at the BBQ
Someone brings up “those creepy spider things,” and you light upbecause you know a fun fact that would redeem the creature’s
entire reputation. You start explaining that harvestmen aren’t actually spiders and can’t even make webs, and you can feel the
social temperature drop like you just suggested replacing hamburgers with steamed kale. What helps: you keep one quick, friendly
line ready“I’m into bugs because they’re misunderstood; want one wild fact?”and if the answer is no, you pivot without shame.
Later, you join a local nature walk or citizen-science event and discover the bug people were never missing; they were just not
attending your neighbor’s BBQ.
2) The Science Brain With Nowhere to Put the Wonder
You read about space, physics, or medical breakthroughs and feel genuine awe. But when you try to share it, the response is
a gentle “Neat,” the conversational equivalent of patting your head and walking away. What helps: you stop trying to convert
uninterested friends into science friends and instead look for a container built for itan astronomy club, a public lecture series,
a museum talk, or even a small online group that discusses big ideas without turning everything into a debate cage match. The
joy comes back the moment someone asks, “Okay, but what would that mean for how the universe works?”
3) The Art-and-History Maker Who Feels “Unclassifiable”
You don’t fit the neat categoriesyour art isn’t gallery-serious, your crafting is part doodle, part chaos, part “I saw this and
made it weirder.” You love history too, but nobody around you wants to talk about it unless it’s a trivia question with a cash prize.
What helps: you find a class or open studio where “making stuff” is the point, not the label. You bring one small project and
one small story: “This idea came from X, but I twisted it.” The moment someone says, “Show me,” you feel less like a lone hobbyist
and more like a person with a creative language.
4) The Classical Music Fan Who Can’t Find Their Matching Frequency
You try explaining why a specific era of music hits differentlyhow the emotion is coded into structure, how the tension resolves,
how it feels like history speaking through sound. People nod politely and change the subject to whatever’s trending. What helps:
you look for interest adjacency. Maybe you don’t find a “20th-century Soviet classical” club on day one, but you find orchestra-goers,
musicians, soundtrack lovers, or people who enjoy deep listening. You invite someone to one performance or share one accessible piece
with a short prompt“Listen for the moment it shifts from uneasy to hopeful.” Suddenly, it’s not a lecture; it’s an experience.
5) The Philosophy Lover Who Wants a Real Conversation (Not a Hot Take)
You don’t want to argue. You want to explore. But most people are either too busy, too tired, or too online to talk about meaning
without turning it into a fight. What helps: you build a tiny ritualtwo people, one question, thirty minutes. No “winning,” no dunking.
You might meet through a book club, a campus talk, a library event, or an online group that values curiosity over clout. The first time
someone responds with, “I’ve wondered that too,” the loneliness doesn’t vanish instantlybut it softens, because now it’s shared.
